


Don't Fuck with the Boss

by shadowlev



Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: Non-Consensual Spanking, Unconventional Families
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-01
Updated: 2014-02-01
Packaged: 2018-01-10 19:13:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1163431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowlev/pseuds/shadowlev
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after Hank attacks Jesse</p>
<p>Mike is tasked with "sorting Jesse out" due to his skimming off the top and complaints about pay. Walt is left to pick up the pieces.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Fuck with the Boss

            Jesse stared at the bald man in his kitchen, face drained white. Mike sighed and slowly removed his gun, placing it on the kitchen counter. It clattered against the surface lightly.

            “Get over here, son,” Mike grumbled. Jesse drew back slightly. Mike stared him down, completely devoid of emotion. The young man bowed his head and looked away, arms wrapped around his torso.

            “No, why should I?” Jesse said, “I ain’t done nothing.”

            “There is a portion of the crystal that is missing and cannot be accounted for. And you’ve been raising a ruckus about your cut of the money. Now, the boss wants me to sort you out, but without the blood trail and the problems your partner would create if you ended up dead. Now, let’s sort this out,” Mike said. Jesse stepped back again, inadvertently backing himself into a corner. He looked around wildly.

            “So what, you gonna beat me into unconsciousness?” Jesse spat, “Cuz forgive me if I’ve been through that too much to go easy, bitch.”

            “No, but I am going to do this,” Mike said. He grabbed Jesse’s arm and pulled. Jesse fought like a wildcat, but Mike’s iron grip on his arm didn’t budge. He calmly pulled Jesse over to a wooden chair, sat down, and pulled him over his lap. He restrained him efficiently.

            Jesse struggled, but found his efforts fruitless. His pants were pulled down his thin frame with his boxers. His shirt was pushed well up on his back, exposing the yellowing bruises from where he’d hit the floor during Hank’s attack. Mike pressed down and none of Jesse’s struggles budged him one inch.

             Jesse glanced up at the counter and noticed the gun. Mike hadn’t even needed it to subdue him completely, leave him bare and defenseless against whatever punishment he was going to dish out.

            Then a hard hand came down on his ass with a smack. Jesse jerked.

            “Ah fuck! What the fuck are you doing, you old homo?” Jesse said. More hard slaps rained down on his skinny ass.

            “What your parents never did,” Mike said. Jesse gasped and clenched his jaw. He wasn’t a pussy, but fuck it hurt. He held his breath and hoped it would be over soon.

            “Breathe, or you’ll pass out and we’ll have to start over. I don’t like starting o,” Mike said. Jesse sucked in a breath, but couldn’t stifle the whines and gasps that escaped. His ass was on fire, like someone was holding a torch to it, and it was only getting worse. It wasn’t stopping.

            It was going on forever. Jesse burst into tears. He had no control over this. He was completely helpless. Nothing would stop t pain. He collapsed as Mike continued spanking him.

            Then, he was being moved, bent over the kitchen table, pinned by the scruff of his neck. A flat piece of leather tapped against his throbbing flesh. Jesse’s eyes went wide and he began to beg. Tears puddled on the surface of his table, snot streaking down from his nose.

            “Please, please no, I’ll do anything,”

            “Say ‘I won’t fuck with the boss’” The leather came whistling down. CRACK! It felt like a brand.

            “Augh! I won’t fuck with the boss!” CRACK “I won’t fuck with the boss!” CRACK “Oh please, I won’t fuck with the boss!” CRACK “I won’t fuck with the boss!” CRACK “I-I won’t f-fuck with the boss!” CRACK “G-GOD, I won’t fuck with the boss!” CRACK “I won’t fuck with the bosssssss!” CRACK “Please, jesus, I won’t fuck with the boss!” CRACK “I won’t fuck with the boss, no more, no more, please!” CRACK “Pleeeaaaase, I won’t fuck with the boss!” CRACK CRACK CRACK “Aaaaaauuuggggggh, iwon’tfuckwifdabossiwontfuckwitthebossiwontfuckwiththeboooooooss! I won’t, I won’t!”

            The hand pinning him to the table lifted and he slid bonelessly to his knees. He sagged down, burying his face in his hands, bawling uncontrollably.

            “There won’t be a next time,” Mike said, tucking the strap into his back pocket. He casually walked over and picked up his gun. He left quietly.

            Jess knelt alone on his kitchen floor, unable to bring himself under control. He felt so utterly stupid and childish and humiliated and alone. He hurt. And he couldn’t get up off the stupid floor. His knees were getting cold and sore and everything.

            The door opened and he flinched uncontrollably away from it. No, Mike couldn’t be back. Couldn’t want to hurt him anymore. Couldn’t want to destroy him further. He looked up in desperation. Another bald man stood in his kitchen. Walt stared down at the pathetic sobbing boy on the floor with relief and concern. Jesse started to hiccup from sobbing so hard.

            “Get the fuck out, Mr White,” he said. He scrubbed his face with his sleeves, but couldn’t stop his trembling or the leaking of his eyes.

            “It’s ok Jesse,” Walt said as he slowly moved closer. He knelt beside the slight boy and put his hand on his back. Jesse flinched away. “It’s ok.”

            One tug at his shirt and Jesse crumpled into Walt’s arms. He buried his face in the older man’s dress shirt, relaxing and letting go for just a second. Walt rocked him a bit, uncomfortably reminded of how he’d found the boy after Jane’s death. Only it wasn’t the drugs making Jesse pliable and open this time. It wasn’t death that had wrecked him.

            After a while, Jesse’s sobs tapered off and Walt moved him over, gripping at the overly long shirt with the intent of pulling it up. Jesse jerked his hands back and clamped them over the hem, keeping it tight about his thighs.

            “Come on, Jesse, let me see the damage. I swear I won’t judge you,” Walt said softly. Jesse let out a small sob and buried his face back into Walt’s shirt, hands moving to clench the older man’s shirt. Walt lifted the fabric.

            It was a professional job. From the top of the kid’s hips to the middle of his thighs was a solid red with darker stripes melding together. There were some parts that looked like they were bruising. And damn, the kid was skinny. Drug addicts…but Jesse was scrawny by nature. Walt sighed and let the shirt drop again.

            “Let’s get you to bed,” Walt said. He pushed Jesse’s shoes and pants the rest of the way off, just letting the long sleeved shirt preserve his modesty. Whatever was left. He helped Jesse up and into the bedroom.

            He settled his pliable (for once) partner into bed, on his stomach, and went back to the kitchen. He left a pitcher of water, a full glass, and a couple Tylenol on the bedside table before draping a coldpack over the blanket and on top of Jesse’s ass. He’d never seen the kid so calm.

            “Why’re you doing this, Mr White?” Jesse mumbled, half asleep. Walt paused for a second.

            “Because I take care of my family,” Walt said before turning the lights off, “Be at the lab on time tomorrow. Try not to be bitchy for the next few days because of this. I thought I’d walk into your brains splattered on the floor.”

 


End file.
